AN: Okay. This is going to be dark. Very dark. If you don't like dark then don't read and just click the back button. This is really just an experiment. I want to try and make a dark story, but a pretty one if you understand what I mean. This contains major angst as well as character death. You've been warned.

Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight



His misery was like quicksand. The more he struggled the faster he sank.


I've just made a terrible mistake. The damage it's caused has left a mark, a dark brand of permanence on my soul – should I still hold one within this putrid shell of flesh that is my body – as well as the souls of those around me. How selfish of me to have dropped this ugly burden upon the shoulders of the ones who once shared their laughter and smiles with me. I'm such a despicable creature to have done such a thing, to have carved this tattoo of shame into my chest with the blackest of inks.

My judgment was wrong. I thought that by distancing myself from her, the one I held most dear, that I'd be protecting her, putting up a shield between her and the monsters that lay out in wait ready to gobble her up with a predatory grin. Instead I hurt her. Hurt her so cruelly that not even an eternity's worth of penance could pop the bubble of guilt caught in my throat. It chokes me every day, making me suffer in silence. I deserve worse. Much worse.

He who breathed life back into my damaged and broken being must hang his head in shame at what I've done. He must be questioning himself, asking what maniac creature had possessed him in order to create me, a monster who can only break what he tries to mend. All his other creations are perfect, behaving like they should. They're perfectly predictable, but not me. I'm the failure. I'm the dark brown water stain on the ceiling, constantly spreading out, affecting more and more people.

I'm a fatal disease. I burrow into the hearts of others and then rot them from the inside out, widespread gangrene. I can't control myself, killing everything I touch and hold dear. Disgusting, no? Everyone thinks so. I could see it in their faces when I explained what I had done, that I'd pushed sweet, gentle Isabella over the edge and that her body was now broken, splattered across a series of jagged rocks.

The image of her mangled body has been burned into my retinas. It never leaves me. Every time I close my eyes, even now, I see the protruding ivory bones, the cracked skull, the pool of deep crimson that even after death smelled strongly of freesia. It was a smell so intoxicating that I very nearly leapt down after her, wanting to lap up the growing puddle of blood like a famished dog. I thought about doing this, but I managed to restrain myself, merely watching as the scavenging birds began to descend, excited by the fresh stench of death. I was as still as a statue, gazing down at the feast below.

They gouged out her eyes with their sharp black beaks. Blood mixed with clear vitreous humor and I felt a shudder run down my spine at the sight. Her skin was being picked apart. They peeled it off bit by bit as if she were an orange. I stood there for hours, watching this ghastly display and not once did I look away. I was silent as the love of my life was reduced to a cluster of bones.

I close my eyes and suck in a deep breath. I want to tell myself that it was her fault for tripping on that rock and slicing open her knee. It was her fault for presenting me that beautiful fluid that sparkled like rubies as it ran down her pale shins. It was her fault for looking so delectable as she stood up, shaking like a newborn fawn. It was she who stepped closer to me not I who moved towards her. She knew that I was hungry. She knew that my self-control was thinning. She knew all this and yet she was the one who approached me. Was I at fault for pushing her away so that I wouldn't sink my dagger-like teeth into the side of her neck and suck her dry? I had not meant for her to stumble back and fall to her death. Why would I want her final resting place to be at the bottom of a steep ravine? I'm in love with her! It was her fault! All her fault!

No. I'm losing it. This battle has gone on for far too long. I've been shying away from the blame. It's mine. All mine. Not Bella's. Oh sweet, sweet Bella. Why did you have to be so fragile? You're like a porcelain doll and I'm the stupid little boy who didn't know his own strength. It's tragic isn't it? Dying a week from your wedding day? I've robbed you of so much haven't I? Let me try and make it up to you.

I step into the fire I built with my own two hands. The smoke stings my eyes and my clothes immediately turn to ash. I turn my face upwards to stare at the cloudy sky. I see a faint glimmer of sunlight and can't help but smile. You always loved it when the sun came out didn't you, Bella?

My skin is blackening and I feel myself turning to dust. The pain is sharp and the smell of my burning flesh is pungent, but I bear it. I'm about to die. Only a few more seconds of agony and then I'll be free of this guilt. I'll be gone.

The seconds thunder in my ears and I breathe my final sigh. I'm slowly sinking into the flames, falling to my knees, eyes closed.

I'm going.



I'm gone.


AN: Meh. This didn't turn out like I'd hoped, but I don't care enough to fix it. I guess this is my first BellaxEdward piece. Must be the apocalypse or something.